092. Fantasy

At the moment, I am reading a fantasy novel that is dull, plodding, filled with one dimensional characters; and for all that is unaccountably popular (George R. R. Martin's "A Game of Thrones"). There is no beautiful language, everyone on the "good" side is noble and honourable; and everyone on the "bad" side is loathsome. Caricatures. I also read on a website a detailed critique/review of a fantasy series I found this year and adored (Patrick Rothfuss' "The Kingkiller Chronicles", spent a couple of hours reading through it, thrilled to find references to other loved books. I don't really know where I am going with this; just trying to bring some thoughts about popularity ≠ intrinsic worth.

You want it like this, truncated days and longer nights, for us to have no existence outside of the dark; the twisted dishevelled bed. You are scared of the scales that slide through you, scared to look down at yourself and see the hard edge of reptile skin, scared most of all of your forked tongue, promising too much to too many. I am your chameleon in a cupboard.

088. Self indulgence

today, although I have not read much of his stuff, is Charles Bukowski's birthday. And the birthday of the girl in my office, which I discovered because she brought donuts. Not doughnuts, donuts. Which is more than we got from Bukowski today but admittedly being dead is a good excuse. Today I am going to be self indulgent with the pictures and post more variations on an asemic theme; I would say "stop me if you've heard this one before," but part of the reason for doing this project was to see if I had a voice of my own. Judging from the comments/views for the asemic stuff, these posts are the least popular, but you know what, I still like them & think there is more to go at...

“Love is a form of prejudice. You love what you need, you love what makes you feel good, you love what is convenient. How can you say you love one person when there are ten thousand people in the world that you would love more if you ever met them? But you’ll never meet them.”

Charles Bukowski

072. More variations

yes, continuing the sunflower theme - I have pictures & I am damn well going to use them...

light bends

colours appear

my wavelength sees

these things, but yours?

071. Sunflower variations

While staying with my brother, I did plenty of playing in the garden with my nieces. Splashing pools, spraying hoses, swings, playing school, trampolines & hammocks. And taking pictures of some past-their-prime sunflowers, following on from Sina's series yesterday; and as always loving Billie's b&w photography & Dorothee's extreme cropping...

               come closer, come closer
                              see into the pieces of what I am
               that is no heart
                              organelles only
               more details make for
                              more fascination
                                             come closer

048. Smarks

I have been continuing with the asemic writing/images theme; just because I like the idea right now, I am not convinced of any great merit in the pieces I have been doing so far but I am enjoying playing around with them, being a little self indulgent. I had a thought-thread in my head, about textile design, and the swathes of fabric with texts in "ancient" writing, or vaguely runic; and wondering what the words said, would a cheeky textile designer include an old Roman joke in the texts, as for all I know they could mean anything? And that is kind of the point...

your words

scratch into me

skin peels

you see into me

045. self stimulation

Sometimes you just get into a loop. I don't go outside as much as I used to, I don't open the kitchen door/window so much, now that he isn't there to wander in and out. His friend and look-alike came to visit again today, when I did open the door. Came into the flat and ran into all the rooms again. Quicker this time. Like he too had lost hope. Oh, well, cropping again.

Sometimes I just miss him

001. Gridlock

And so, day 1. Having started part way through I have been working backwards until I came to day 1. The conjunction of images I picked, and images I made was purely a serendipitous accident on the day I stumbled across the project; but it has grown from that into something more structured as time went by; an image, or occasionally words of inspiration, an new image made in my digital workshop, some notes about the day, or the inspiration, or the process, and the finally the writing. But today, only one image... at least until the end ;)

since 100 = 10x10; I will have a grid of pictures created for this project at the end. I love grids. This image is my bedroom wall, but all the walls in my flat have small square pictures at eye level. The frames (from IKEA) are very cheap, and I can chop and change the images as/if the mood takes me, shuffle them about on my walls. I'd love to have a 10x10 grid on a blank wall, but I'd have to bend down to see some of the pictures then...